In South Beach’s tranquil Palm View neighborhood, a once-stylish house gone shabby offers a case study in a complicated conflict facing many South Florida communities threatened by rising seas, tides and storm surge.
It’s historic preservation vs. flood protection.
Anthony Accetta — an attorney who inherited three connected properties in a historic district of Miami Beach where some homes date back nearly a century — has been embroiled in a battle over a 1930’s home with a colorful heritage that neighbors now call an eyesore. Two of his adjacent homes in a flood-prone area of the city have already been deemed unsafe and demolished. But the city’s Historic Preservation Board has been pushing to save the last one.
The board argues that the two-story home can be raised — or even restored where it sits under code exemptions intended to help preserve the character of historic neighborhoods. Accetta’s engineer and architect insist a wrecking ball is the only practical option to prevent further damage to a tattered home in a flood zone.
Accetta, who is open about his hope to sell the lots together to a developer, argues that retrofitting to modern standards isn’t worth the trouble or expense for a home his hired consultants consider of scant historic importance.
“You could send someone to the moon – so yeah, you could do it. You could lift whatever you want. It’s a value, cost thing,” said Accetta. “They are telling me, ‘Hey, you knock this house down, you can make another $2 or $3 million.’ But instead I’m stuck with a house that shouldn’t be raised, can’t be demolished, and that no one should live in.”
At a meeting earlier this month, preservation board member Ray Breslin acknowledged concern that approving the demolition of 1800 Michigan Avenue could cause a ripple effect in Palm View, a neighborhood of charming Art Deco and Mediterranean Revival homes not far from Lincoln Road and City Hall.
“You make a compelling argument to tear the building down because it doesn’t meet any building standards, but neither do any of the other homes in the Palm View neighborhood. So you would be setting a precedent for everyone in the Palm View neighborhood to come and say ‘Oh we need to tear our home down.’ ”
‘This is going to be a swamp.’
Miami Beach has spent upwards of a half-billion dollars on elevating roads and installing pumps and other flood-control measures but some areas like Palm View still suffer periodic street flooding or worse — particularly during King Tides or heavy rains.
Luz Lattore, one of Palm View’s longest-tenured residents, confirmed chronic drainage issues. “Sometimes it takes more than a day for it to fully drain,” she said. Flooding has long made the neighborhood a battleground between preservationists and owners and developers who argue they should have the right to build more resilient (and likely more profitable) homes.
“It’s not something that happens once every 20 years. It’s a very common,’’ Accetta said. “This is going to be a swamp.”
His attorney, Michael Larkin, told the preservation board that the city’s own data shows more flooding on the street over the last five years. He warned it could get even worse once the city raises the road and if other surrounding lots are developed or elevated, leaving Accetta’s property sitting in a “valley” where storm runoff would pool.
Florida’s building codes require new, more elevated construction to protect neighboring properties from storm runoff, using special drainage features like deeper yard swales and retaining walls. But across South Florida, residents have often complained that new elevated homes and roads inundate nearby structures. In one case, a group of Miami Beach homeowners sued the city after road elevation caused flooding on their properties.
One thing both sides seem to agree on: The best way to reduce flood risks would be to elevate whatever goes up on the site. The current building code for Palm View calls for at least four feet higher.
But Accetta’s engineer cautioned that potential fix could wind up destroying the fragile structure. Unlike many older homes with crawl spaces – which allow easier access – the Michigan Avenue house sits on a concrete slab. Experts say that makes elevating it far more difficult and expensive.
During a structural assessment, engineer Youssef Hachem found the concrete foundation was 80% weaker than coastal buildings built today. “To get it out of the flood zone, we’re not confident due to the concrete weaknesses that we’d actually be able to lift the structure,” Hachem, who has 30 years of local experience, told board members.
Still, it’s possible. Jeff Trosclair, CEO of JAS Home Raising, who has raised more than 1,000 homes on the west coast of Florida — the company slogan is ‘haven’t dropped one yet’ — isn’t involved in the Miami Beach case. But he told the Miami Herald that many seemingly fragile homes can be safely raised. He’s said he’s lifting a similar old home now in St. Petersburg.
“Building officials, engineers and other builders who don’t have much experience with lifting tend to assume that we will damage the structure,” Trosclair said. “It’s rare that a good experienced lifter damages anything.”
The big hitch is that work also comes at a big cost. While a standard house lift runs $150 to $200 a square foot, poor structural conditions could double that. That’s just the start. The house would also need a new roof, reinforced walls, new stronger foundation and the whole thing would need to be re-stuccoed.
There is another alternative — using a special exemption that allows repairs to historic homes without raising them or upgrading everything to existing codes. But Accetta’s attorney argued that would be a foolhardy investment given persistent flooding likely to get worse in coming decades. “I see a future for the home that is bleak – and this is something that you all need to grapple with from time to time,” Larkin told the board.
Some charm still evident
Despite the decay and disrepair, city preservation experts say the home still displays historic appeal — most evident in its distinctive Mediterranean-style entryway with stone shelving and ornate hand-laid tiles that are signatures designs of its Texas-born architect, Carlos Schoeppl.
The city also contends Accetta has largely dismissed calls to save at least some of the structure and instead has been focused on razing it.
“I understand what they were saying that the whole property might not be able to be raised, but demolition is a very high bar in a historic district,” Debbie Tackett, the chief historic preservation and architectural officer for the Miami Beach Historic District, told the Herald. “Maybe a portion can be retained, and they never even, at least from talking to them, seriously explored that.”
The board approves demolitions in rare cases, she said. But the board didn’t feel it was appropriate for this one because the engineering report did not say it was at risk of imminent collapse.
Years of neglect also have contributed to the structural problems, not just flooding issues. Cracks run along the walls and the roof is rotting in multiple places. Vines creep through broken windows onto the walls and ceilings, and red code enforcement citations are plastered across the front door. Illegal additions to the house are boarded up. In one, a tree that crashed through its roof now hosts a bee colony.
A deal to benefit cancer victims
There is another wrinkle to the dispute. As a trustee of the estate of the former owners, Accetta said he is pushing for the maximum value out of the properties because the sale is intended to help cancer victims.
The story behind that leads to Rita Starr and Ivor Rose, a married couple who lived in the area for decades, buying and renting out numerous homes. Their presence is still visible at 1800 Michigan Avenue. “Rita Ivar ‘64” is etched into concrete steps and driveway. A zebra statue adorned with Ivor’s name in stick-on letters still stands in the yard.
In 2019, two years before her death, Starr told the Miami Herald that the couple had once hoped to redevelop their triangle of homes in townhouses, but their plans were halted by the district’s controversial historic designation in 1999. After that, the couple struggled with the expenses of maintaining their numerous properties.
Accetta, a New York-born attorney who has lived in Miami for decades, met the couple in 2014 while representing them in a high-profile fraud case against disgraced developer named Michael Stern, who had forged Starr’s named on mortgage documents. After her death, Accetta said he discovered she had named him and another attorney co-trustees of the properties — with a directive to sell the land for the highest possible price and donate the proceeds to families struggling with cancer, a disease that claimed her mother’s life.
“The couple had no children of their own and instead decided to leave their estate in the hands of the two people they trusted the most to get the highest amount of funds on the property and give the rest to charity,” Larkin said. “This is not a get-rich-quick process; this is two professionals that are charged with carrying out the last wishes of Rita and Ivor.”
For him, the ideal scenario would be to sell the land to a developer to build four new single-family homes designed in line with the city’s historic guidelines.
Accetta says he is puzzled over the fight over the last home, since the city already agreed to demolish an adjacent property listed as of “exceptional historical significance.” That canal-front home was once the studio of Henry Hubbell, an artist employed by the federal government to paint portraits, including one of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. The home was even featured on vintage postcards titled “A bit of Venice in Miami Beach,” complete with gondolas.
City reports show those structures were in far worse condition. Breaks in the seawall caused water to come up through the foundation, eroding it so badly that the Miami Beach’s building department issued an emergency demolition order before the Historic Preservation Board ever weighed in.
Accetta, who says he has spent hundreds of thousands on battle over the home, argues that if the board wants the house saved, the city should take financial responsibility for doing so. “From a lawyer’s perspective, there’s what they call eminent domain,” he said. “If your house is where the government wants to build a highway, they have to pay you the reasonable value of the property. I think that’s fair. Give me the option.”
Debate still divides neighborhood
The battle over 1800 Michigan Avenue echoes a long-running debate that still divides Palm View residents. In 2019, some homeowners mounted a campaign to rescind a designation applied to a triangle of blocks bounded by Dade Boulevard, Meridian Avenue, 17th Street and Lenox Court.
Longtime resident Lattore called the process arbitrary and restrictive.
“I couldn’t rebuild a home big enough to fit my family,” she said. “Just a few blocks away, people are putting up huge modern buildings. This neighborhood is so small, it doesn’t affect the look of the city. I think everyone should have the freedom to tear down their home and build something new.”
Others say its the architectural history that makes Palm View such an attractive place to live in a city full of high-rises. Dillion Elizer, a neighborhood association board member, told the Herald her personal opinion was that it wasn’t fair for “out-of-town attorneys” with no personal ties to the neighborhood to try to circumvent the preservation rules.
“All of us that live in the neighborhood have to jump through all these hoops with the preservation board to keep structures from like 1937, and these guys get to just bypass it,” Eliezer said.
Members of the Miami Design Preservation League also “strongly oppose” demolition.
“This appears to be a case of demolition by neglect, where the owners are intentionally allowing the property to deteriorate to justify demolition,” the preservation league’s statement said. “If aging concrete and standard maintenance issues such as moisture intrusion justify demolition, then virtually every historic property in the city becomes vulnerable. This would set an extremely dangerous precedent.”
Jay Levy, another homeowner in Palm View, said climate change wasn’t on the agenda a quarter century ago when historic designations and its building code rules were first approved.
“When I first moved to South Beach in 1990, we all thought, oh, that’s a good thing. It’s allowing us to keep these historic properties,” Levy said. “And now, in retrospect, I realize that wasn’t a good thing, that was actually pulling the wool over everybody’s eyes.”
Ashley Miznazi is a climate change reporter for the Miami Herald funded by the Lynn and Louis Wolfson II Family Foundation and MSC Cruises in partnership with Journalism Funding Partners.
This story was originally published by the Miami Herald and shared in partnership with the Florida Climate Reporting Network, a multi-newsroom initiative founded by the Miami Herald, the Sun-Sentinel, The Palm Beach Post, the Orlando Sentinel, WLRN Public Media and the Tampa Bay Times.
